


Come Closer

by CalamityCain



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a pleasure club catering to the niche tastes of the decadently rich, the tycoon of Stark Industries finds himself with a most exquisite companion. One that just might be worth the steep price he’s paying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a 'soundtrack' for this tale, if anyone's interested ;)
> 
> http://a-walking-accident.tumblr.com/post/34690179665/come-closer-a-soundtrack

~

 

“You’re sure they got the right one this time?”

 

“Right as rain, sir. He is as per your specifications. Tall, fair, lanky. Brunette. And you…requested black nail varnish. Is that correct?”

 

“Yeah. Well. The last time I asked for that I got a teenage drag queen, acne and all.”

 

The handler smiled – a polished, professional twitch of the face. “We heard about that, Mr Stark. No drag this time. And, to make amends for the...slip-up, we’d like to add that this session is at half-price. With a VIP Room to boot.” They entered the antechamber, and the handler gestured to its plush surroundings. Languid music piped softly through the speakers.

 

“Is this to your liking?”

 

Tony swept the area with his eyes, trying not to look impressed. “It’ll do.” He held out his hand. “Thank you, Mr…Coulson, was it? I’ll look for you next time. Put in a good word to ol’ Nick, too.”

 

This time Coulson’s smile reached his eyes. “I’d much appreciate that, sir.”

 

Anthony Stark, industrialist and heir to an empire, walked into the adjoining chamber, where his night’s entertainment awaited in a cylindrical glass cage.

 

In contrast to the velvet-and-leather surfaces of its surroundings, the cage itself was utilitarian. In its centre on a low-backed leather chair sat a pale, sinuous creature. His back was turned. At the sound of Tony’s entrance, he spun around in a fluid motion.

 

He was everything Tony could have wanted. No, more.

 

The lighting threw seductive shadows under the perfectly curved cheekbones and along the sleek, whipcord muscles. Every line of his body was flawless, from the sharp jawline to the serpentine curve of marble-white thighs. And yes, the perfectly proportioned fingers, nails painted black.

 

When he looked up to meet Tony’s gaze, the eyes were iridescent green.

 

And the voice. Tony felt the outside world shrinking away into some distant and irrelevant sphere of existence as the creature spoke. A demure, velvety whisper.

 

_“Mr Stark. How may I please you?”_

 

~


	2. Chapter 2

_How may I please you?_

 

Anthony Stark, genius billionaire playboy with the world at his feet, swallowed hard as he willed the burning in his loins to calm.

 

“You…can start by calling me Sir.” His voice sounded foreign to him.

 

The head dipped in a submissive gesture. Perfect; but of course.

 

“Come closer.”

 

The creature obeyed. He sashayed until he was but an inch from the glass. “What can I do for you, sir?”

 

“Hmm. What are you good at?”

 

A smile that was just short of sly. “I’ve been told I dance well.”

 

“Sounds good. Do it then.”

 

“Yes, sir.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Jarvis? Music please.”

 

The familiar mechanical voice filled the room. “As you wish, Loki.”

 

_Loki._ Interesting name. A hypnotic beat poured from the speakers. Loki’s sinuous curves began to move.

 

And reality melted away.

 

Neck and clavicle and arching back. Hips slathered in sin. A boneless, fluid force, all liquid muscle and taut silk skin, pulled Tony’s very soul into each nerve and undulating line.

 

The chair became a tool that he coiled around, slithered against, ran his lips all over. His breath misted the glass and turned it hot with the proximity of his flesh. But the best parts were those that involved only his hands and himself – all of him. Those ebony-tipped hands seemed to belong to someone else. Someone’s hands manipulating his movements, controlling the roll of his hips, pulling silent cries of desire from the slit of pink within his mouth.

 

In some distant part of his brain the song seemed to go on forever. It reminded him of his very first bong party where a cousin had gone the extra mile by spiking the punch with mushroom juice. Caught in a time warp, seeing motion in stillness, completely helpless to stop the spell and loving every slow-moving second.

 

But all things come to an end. The last few beats faded away, and then Loki was seated as demurely as ever before him, unchanged save for a slight film of sweat.

 

“You have me for another fifteen minutes, sir,” he said. “Is there anything else you would like?”

 

Tony reached for the expensive decanter of scotch with a completely-not-trembling hand. He cleared his throat.

 

“I want you to touch yourself.”


	3. Chapter 3

Much like his father before him, Stark Jr had always known what he wanted. Whether or not it was good for him.

 

_“I want you to touch yourself.”_

 

True to his command, one hand snaked down the angular pelvic bones and underneath the tight, black silk briefs. He began stroking in slow, exquisite movements. Up; down; undulating; neck arching at just the right moments. Almost unconsciously Tony began to grind against his plush armchair in tandem with the younger man’s movements.

 

It wasn't long before the green eyes glazed over with self-pleasure and the movements started to lose their languid rhythm as Loki stroked himself faster and faster. It was ridiculous how hard Tony had become. The bulge tightening his tailored pants was just short of embarrassing.

 

“May I stop now, sir?” he asked.

 

A burning swallow of scotch. “You will stop when I tell you to.”

 

He nodded. “I… _nnhh.”_

 

“You were saying something?”

 

“I…beg your permission to come, sir.”

 

“So fast?” He drains the glass and reached for a refill. “You will come when I allow it. And not before then.”

 

The soft sound that escaped Loki’s throat was too much to bear. He had to close his eyes and, with his ears, trace the audible process of Loki slowly losing control, the demurely polished facade slipping away. The increasingly anguished moans stroked his senses like lewd tongues. With his free hand Tony began to stroke himself. His pounding blood shot the alcohol to the very core of his brain and made him dizzy, warm.

 

“Sir. _Please.”_

 

“Please what?” His voice was but a whisper. He swallowed.

 

“Please, let me come.”

 

When Tony opened his eyes, the expression of mad uncontrolled lust gleaming in Loki’s eyes threw him aback. The man looked almost unhinged. A feral caged animal in a refined body. He threw back the last of his glass’s contents.

 

“Fine. You may.”

 

Loki threw his head back and, with a keening moan, covered himself in slick white seed. For half a minute all that conspired between them were their own rapid breaths.

 

Then the civilized wall came back down, and it was over. Loki was all smooth undulations again. With the leisure of an expert tease he licked his own fluids off his fingers, one by one. He wiped the seed off his flat belly and repeated the process until each nail was gleaming black again. Then he swiped his thighs, also with the same leisure. The last finger he sucked on with small, muffled moans as if the simple act alone could bring him to a new climax.

 

Tony didn’t need to look down to know his Egyptian cotton briefs were probably ruined. They were warm and wet as guilt. “You have a skilled tongue.”

 

Loki smiled. “That is where my name comes from,” he replies, voice silken again. “An allusion to the myths of old – Loki Silvertongue.”

 

Tony managed a small grin back. “And what else can you do with that silver tongue, Loki?”

 

“I could show you.” A twitch of the dark lashes suggested all manner of things. “But you’d have to come in.”

 

Entering the cage constituted separate charges, and that half-price offer would fly right out the window; that was the deal. Tony knew. He didn’t care.

 

He walked up to the glass and hit the green button. A door slid open with a discreet hiss.

 

“I have ten more minutes on the clock,” said Tony as he pushed the other man to his knees. “Ten minutes of playtime.” He stroked the curving cheekbone with one hand while unbuckling his belt with another. With that done, he pried open Loki’s shapely lips. Already his breaths were ragged; short.

 

“Make it worth my while.”


End file.
